


The colors of the crown Part I

by Ava626



Series: The crown series [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Frustration, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Night, You get the picture....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava626/pseuds/Ava626
Summary: Part I, that corresponds with the events happening in 'Heavy is the head that wears the crown".Sigrid and Fili, destined or not?





	1. Blue

When he was young, girls had always wanted to get to know him, wether spurred on by their families or of their own free will. And as a part of their chats to know more about him, they had always asked what his favourite colour was. And he had always answered the same. Blue. Blue was his favourite colour. The girls had mostly giggled, as they all seemed prone to, and asked if he liked blue because it was the colour of the sky. Internally he had scoffed, which dwarf liked the colour of the sky?! But instead of being rude, he had just nodded. Sure, he liked the blue of the sky.

He never told them it was not light blue he liked, but the dark, rich Durin blue that he only saw on special occassions. The occassions on which his uncle wore his formal doublet, that made him look even more regal than he already did. The blue he imagined himself wearing when they would take back the fabled kingdom of Erebor. His uncle would rule it, and after Thorin went to the Halls of Waiting, Fili would.

Right now, as he stood next to the throne his uncle sat on, his hads clasped behind his back and trying to keep a correct stance, he absolutely, completely and utterly hated Durin blue. He detested it, loathed it and never wanted to see it again. Because as it turned out, ruling wasn’t fun and Erebor wasn’t as fabled as it was said it would be. There were always things to do, always matters to attend and never a moment to himself.

But that wasn’t even the worst part of it. No, the worst part was that streams of new inhabitants came barging in, and started throwing all available women at the royals of Erebor. And all of those women seemed to have had the same thought: to wear Durin blue to make the royals like them more. Fili had to hold in another scoff, as if the colour of the dress they wore would make them more suitable to join the royal family.

No, he had definetely been put off Durin blue. Yet not blue completely; sky blue had become more and more alluring after a certain girl wore an aprin   decorated with light blue patterns. A tentative smile had started to form thinking of that girl, and he startled when he saw the family currently being presented to them took it as a favourable sign. Bah! Why did they think they should parade their daughters in front of them as if they were no more than chattel?!


	2. Gold

A couple of weeks later, and a few miles away from Erebor, Sigrid was also supposed to pay attention but found herself unable to do so, completely caught up in her daydreams.

Although the war had ended and they had taken Dale as their new home, their lives were still utter chaos. They were surrounded by nothing but grey. Dirty, grey clothes worn by people whose faces were grey with exhaustion. Grey rubble everywhere, under a sky grey with fog and the grey drizzle of the autumn rains. Yet in that grey hopelessness, she was able to dream of more. Of gold.

Not the gold that could be payed with, and certaily not the gold that had attracted a dragon to come here and had supposedly driven not one but two kings of Erebor raving mad. No, she dreamed of a more subtle gold, that wasn’t just a treasure, but rather covered one.

She had known that fact at a time she should really have been thinking of something else, like running for her life to get away from intruders in her house. But in that moment, for a split second, she could only think how brave he was, how he had fought to keep her and her siblings safe.

Before his heroism, he had made her laugh a little, as did all of them. It seemed like a bad play, a bunch of dwarves and a hobbit coming out of your toilet, and then grumpily sitting in your livingroom. Things had turned a bit sour when her da found out what they were really up to, and in the end he had of course been right. She could not recall a moment wherein her father had said something he wasn’t right about. It was an annoying trait, really, but it somehow was also comforting there was someone that always had the answer.

But her golden hero had returned, and he had saved her. Yet at the same time he had also ruined her, for ever since that day she could not banish him from her thoughts, nor her dreams.

Yet now Sigrid was rudely pulled out of her thoughts by a non too subtle pinch in her arm, thoughtfully but stealthily delivered by her brother.

“Sigrid, did you hear me?” her father asked, looking at her inquisitively.

With a pleasant smile she nodded, hoping she was not blushing. Inwardly she cursed herself, she should have been paying attention! Important people were here, including the uncle of the dwarf she had just been thinking about.

“Could you get us some more tea, love?” She heard, and she got up and started to heat the water, relieved to have something to do.


	3. Green

As he stood on the ramparts, the wind softly blowing through his hair, he could see the earth starting to heal. Slowly but steadily the desolation started to turn into something that made him think of the Shire a bit. Green, with the brown of roads winding through it. It wasn’t as luscious, of course, nor were there as many fields nearby, but it made the place they were living in feel more homely nonetheless.

Fili sighed deeply. They were supposed to have a family lunch in five minutes, but he just knew his uncle’s consort would be there, the giggling git, as Kili had dubbed her. For his brother it was just a bit of fun, someone to liven up the life at court. But for him it was something more serious, something that gave him a bad taste in his mouth. He knew his uncle was putting the pieces in place to ask Emma’s father to give his daughter to one of the Erebor royals, and Fili knew his uncle wasn’t about trade agreements, but about having Emma as his wife. Yet still he kept his consort. It wasn’t right somehow. Sure Fili had had women, for a night or a week, but not recently, not since he had experiences feelings for someone that could be serious. It felt like betrayal what his uncle did, betrayal of the woman that saved Fili when she had no obligation to. Because that’s what she did, that horrible afternoon on Raven Hill. She had gotten out of her safe hiding place and risked everything, including seeing his uncle again after their fight. He wondered how Emma felt about Thorin now, after half a year had passed. Would she want to marry him? He doubted it very much, and feared for what his uncle was about to do. She would probably not take kindly to being forced to marry his uncle, and for a split second he thought that if she were forced to marry, perhaps he would offer himself up. That way he could give her at least a marriage in which she would not be hassled, though it was unlikely there would be the love he felt for Sigrid. Thinking of Sigrid he abandoned his plan to marry Emma if necessary; he just couldn’t. Perhaps his brother could, as far as he knew Kili had no special interest in a girl yet.

The troubles ahead made him decide to forego on an aggravating lunch and get out of Erebor for a moment, to get some real, clean air. The guards looked at him with some astonishment in their eyes, seeing him walk out of the frontgates by himself, not on a horse and followed by at least half a dozen guards as usual, but they said nothing and just bowed.

After a mile or two he stopped. He had passed the emptiness of the land that lied directly in front of Erebor and was kept barren so merchants could get there easily with their carts, and then passed the small patches of green where nature was starting to erase the memory of one large and unwelcome reptile. He got off the road, walking through the grass that at some places reached up to his elbow, running his hands through it.

Back when they lived in Ered Luin, before his uncle had built his halls and they could live underground, they used to hate the wild nature around them. It all seemed like an elaborate hiding place from which animals, orcs or whatever filth had it out for them could attack without being seen. It was unsteady and uncontrollable, unlike stone, on which they could always rely to keep them safe.

But now, always being surrounded by stone, he could appreciate the finer points of that what the earth had to offer. The smell of grass, the russle of the wind blowing through the leaves and the soft laughter of a woman. Fili immediately pulled himself out of his musings and looked around. Though it supplemented nature well, women’s laughter was certainly not part of it. Well, if one did not count the cruel laughter of the witch of the wood of course. He still shuddered a bit, thinking of how his uncle would describe the elf queen that stole little dwarflings when they wandered too far from their house, laughing in such a way a man’s beard would instantly turn white. But he was sure his spring afternoon would not be disturbed by one such as her.

He smiled when he saw who he had heard, and slowly started to walk towards her, watching how she also walked through the grass and seemingly enjoyed herself. It wasn’t untill he was about 20 meters away that he stopped, suddenly coming to the realization that he had no idea what to say to her. He knew what he wanted to say, but that would be absolutely odd; one could not propose marriage to someone they had only seen once.


	4. Pink

Everything had seemed to be set up for her to leave the house by herself that afternoon. Tilda was playing at a friend’s house, Bain was training with the guards and her father had a meeting, all while the housekeeper and her team of maids they had gotten a moon ago were taking care of all the chores that needed to be done. So there did not seem to be anything that held her back, not even people wanting to talk to her on the street so she would ask for favours for them from her da.

And for half an hour she had actually felt free, felt like nothing had changed. She almost skipped through the grass, picking flowers to put on the table like she did when they still lived in Laketown and she desperately needed something that cost nothing but would brighten up their house. How jealous of the women that could afford lively curtains and matching pillowcases she had been back then. But she knew the price those women paid for their status, how awful and dull their husbands were, and how empty their lives must have felt.

She laughed outloud at the irony of the situation, thinking of how their fortunes had changed yet now she could not find the time to busy herself with the decoration of their house. Or palace rather, as it was abslutely huge and her da was king. And then there he was, standing sompletely still and looking at her intently.

She felt a pink blush creep up from her troat to her cheeks, and for a moment she could not move, frozen in embarassment. She would be the laugh of the whole North-east, and to her detriment her father with her. A lady, running through the grass  and laughing outloud like she was either as mad as king Thorin or as drunk like some of those veterans that had seen too many horrible things and lost too many people in the war, their only means of survival the oblivion of alcohol.

Then he waved, an awkward swing of his arm, but a wave nonetheless. So she waved back, and they both started walking towards eachother. When they stood in front of eachother, another awkward moment followed, as they both said nothing. She saw him jerk his head a bit, as if he had to get himself back to reality.

“Princess Sigrid, how delightfull to meet you again.” He said, and then he bowed, just like he had done when he had come out of their toilet.

Despite feeling so incredibly awkward and ashamed, or maybe because of it, Sigrid fell victim to a fit of laughter that she was unable to stop, no matter how hard she tried. Fili looked a bit like a sad puppy when she did, which made it only worse, but to her surprise he then also started laughing.

When they both had calmed down a bit, he put his fur cape on the ground and invited her to join him. For a while they just sat together, looking at their surroundings, but then he turned to her. “You were just thinking of me coming out of your privy, weren’t you?”

She bit her lip and then nodded, trying to keep a straight face, yet when he nodded at her confirmation, the corners of his mouth curling up a bit, she could not hold back and burst out again.

They kept it up all afternoon, switching between serious conversation and belly shaking laughter, and when she looked back at that afternoon in the spring, she knew it had been the epithomy of freedom.


	5. Black

With the change of seasons from summer to fall, another change was coming, and this time it was not announced by a grey wizard or his uncle waving with maps and speaking about grand plans. No, this time it became clear by alle the servants running around and every member of the councel completely stressed out by his even more stressed uncle.

And then she came, one small girl exhuding cold, polite anger, still covered in that black veil. He imagined sometimes what she looked like under that fabric that always covered her face. Not out of wrong motives, but out of curiosity. He wondered if his uncle knew, if his uncle knew what her face looked like, or if he wanted her for her personalty. He couldn’t really imagine that, not because he disliked Emma, he liked her very much, but because all he had ever seen between Thorin and Emma was tenseness, anger and fighting.

The days after her arrival were quite amusing, if he had to be honest. He had never seen anyone being able to make his uncle run around and fuss, without even asking him to. But Emma, in all her  distance and coldness, seemed to be able to do just that. It stopped being funny when his uncle told him the Giggling Gid was having his child, Emma’s half brother assaulted and insulted her and it was decided Thorin would marry Emma. Then things got serious, too serious for his liking.

He needed to get away, even if it was just for an hour. The stone of the mountain, that had always felt so protective, now seemed to close him in, imprison him. He needed some air, and he especially needed someone to talk to, someone not caught up in the mad politics of Erebor. There was only one he could think of, only one he wanted to see.

And so he went out again, this time with a clear goal and on horeseback.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Do the princes of Erebor always wander around Dale aimlessly?” He heard an amused voice behind him saying, and he spun around to see the person he had secretly been searching for looking at him with a smirk.

Once he recovered, he smiled back. “Aye, of course. How else are we to know what our neighbours are up to?”

She crossed her arms oer her chest. “Would you care to join me for tea then, mister spy? I’ll tell you what you want to know and it’ll save you the trouble from runnng around in the cold all afternoon.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Theys at on one of the sofas in their sittingroom, a sturdy, honest piece of furnishment that lacked all the unnecessary decorations that were so plenty in his own surroundings. He liked this better, if he were honest. It reminded him of their small chambers in the Blue Mountains, _of home_. It was odd how he stll tought of their simple dwellings in the west as home, while Erebor didn’t really feel like that. He had an comfortable apartment there, of course, but it wasn’t like a home. It missed the warmth, the comfortable feeling of having a family with him.

“My uncle’s getting married.” He said after she had put a mug of tea in front of him. “To a girl from the Grey Hills.”

“I know, my da’s going.” she said, less enthusiasticly than he would have thought. All the girls he had known loved stories about weddings and such, always going on about dresses and dances and such.

“Aye, appearantely they knew eachother before.” There was no need to explain before _what_. Everyone knew there was a time before the dragon, and a time after.

She seemed to brighten up when he said that, as the little frown on her forehead disappeared, and she said: “So it is love then? Not politics?”

He had never associated the word ‘love’, or even the concept of it, with his uncle. Of course he knew his uncle loved Kili and him, but love for a woman? No, he had never believed Thorin to have such feelings. But now that Sigrid spoke of it outloud, he started to suspect that his cold, dour and hot-tempered uncle might actually be capable of having such feelings. He did run his legs out from under him die make sure everything was as Emma would might, possibly want it…

He snorted in amusement, thinking how his uncle was straining himself. “I think so. I think it might actually be love.”

“Is that common for you?” She asked, peering at him intendly, and his confusion over what she meant must have been clearly visible. “Marrying for love, I mean. Instead of for politics.”

“I know my mother had an arranged marriage for political reasons, but her and my father came to love eachother very much. Marriage among the nobles is normally done for money or business. For non-nobles it is always for love.”

He looked at the raindrops slowly running down the windows and thought of his adad. He couldn’t really picture his face anymore; in his memories he saw his hair, his clothes and even the details of the decorations on his belt, but his face was always a blur. Perhaps his amad did see him clearly in her thoughts, he hoped sof or her. She always looked sad whenever someone spoke of his adad, so perhaps she could find some solace in the times they had had together.

His thoughts must have taken him away from that time and space for a moment, because suddenly he heard Sigrid scrape her throat and looking at him with an uncertain smile. He shook his head slightly to push back the momories of his father to another time, and smiled back at her. “And you? Will you be expected to marry some king or prince or lord, or can you choose your very own fisherman yourself?”

She elbowed him in his ribs, or at least tried to, and the severity of the moment was gone, replaced by the companionship they had shared since that first time in the fields. Once the feeling of breaking that friendly bond and forging it into something more, Fili knew it was time to leave.

“Will you be coming to the wedding?” he asked, not strong enough to resist any opportunity to see her again.

She shook her head. “My da says I have to wait untill I’ve had my coming out ball. To introduce me properly into society and such.”

He took her hand and softly pressed a kiss on the knuckles. So intimate, with so much meaning, yet as formal and acceptable as could be.


	6. Orange

“What did she look like, da?”

Bard sighed and looked at her warily, scratching his head almost violently.  “You’ve asked me that at least fifteen times over the past five days, love. Would you mind telling me what this is really about, before we all go slightly mad with your obsession with the looks of the queen of Erebor?”

Her da just did not get it. He. Did. Not. Get. It. All he had said was that she was wearing a white dress and had long, dark hair. That was all, literally all, and not nearly enough. She needed to know exactly what Thorin’s wife  had been wearing, how her hair was done, what kind of paint she put on her face, how she had behaved, wat kind of rituals there were performed, and so on and so on.

Yet she got none of that, and for the first time in her life she felt she was being treated unfairly and she could just feel a jealous fire burning inside of her for all the people that did go. She helped her da with so much, and first she had not been allowed to come and then he didn’t tell her anything real. She almost wanted to stump her foot in frustration, when her father sat down.

“Tell me specifically what you want to know, Sig.”

With a wide smile she also sat down. “What exactly did her dress look like?”

Her father sighed deeply, but tried to smile at her. “It was white. Not one of tose puffe ones, but more –eeeerm- you know, tight. With a belt made of diamonds.”

“And on her head? What was on her head?”

“Eeeerm, one of those veil things, made of lace or whatever you call it. It was really long, almost as long as her dress, dragging over the floor. Why would anyone want clothes that drag over the floor?”

Sigrid sighed. “Because it’s pretty, da. Did she look happy?”

Bard sighed and then shook his head. “Look Sig, you’ll hear it sooner or later, but for now, promise me not to blab this around, alright?”

Her eyes widened a bit. What could be so important that she could not speak of it. Wordlessly she nodded, and her da ran his hand over his face again before starting.  It turned out that Emma’s da is not really her da, and that is causing a bit of a problem.”

Sigrid frowned. How could a father be anything else?

Her own father saw her confusion, and for a moment didn’t know if he should be amused with her innocense or be worried about it. “Her mam did – eerm—loved someone else while she was still married.”

It did not seem to lessen his daughters bewilderment, but rather enhance it. “Why? Why would someone love someone else if they choose to marry another?”

When he was about to answer, one of the servants came in, saying that ‘ _there’ere some real fancy visitors for ‘is lordship_ ’ . He was mignificent in the household,b ut the accent and phrasing always had Sigrid nearly burst out in laughter. Yet not this time, as her father was being called away for urgent business. On the other hand, it was almost certain that thier visitors had also been at the royal wedding, so perhaps they would ay something interesting……

Bard kissed her on the forehead. “And that, my dear Sigrid, is why I want you to marry for love and not politics.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

She sat in the room above her father’s office, crouched on the floor with her ear pressed to the air vent in the wall, secretly listening to, whom she believed to be, her da, Thranduil, that wizard and a man and two women she didn’t think she knew. Sigrid knew it was wrong, so very wrong, so listen in like this, and to mighty rulers to make it even worse. But she really wanted to know, and for once her urge to do something for herself instead of others took over from her rule-obeying nature.

 _“We can’t just go barging in there! You won’t get anywhere! If there is anything we have learned, it is that they are not really fond of being forced to do something!”_ Her father said, and it was followed by some soft murmering she could not make out.

_“We are not getting anywhere with her brother, and I believe –“_

The floorboars creaked, and when she looked up she saw the stern face of mrs. Pottel looking down at her. She tried to mumble some excuses, but with eyes shining with amusement the housekeeper just nodded her head towards the door.


	7. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I added two chapters tonight, so go back if you haven't read anything about frustrating fathers yet!  
> Also, I'm a sucker for feedback and comments, please indulge me :)

As he sat on the throne and listened to all the small and big matters the people of Erebor brought before him, he thanked Mahal that he did not have his uncle’s job.  The councilmeeting in the morning had been awful, as had everything that he had had to do in the days before.  And then all that had happened with that bloody elf. Who would believe Elrond and Emma’s mother had an affair?! And that she was still alive! He nearly chuckled at the scandal of it all, but then he remembered that it probably wasn’t so funny to Emma and, perhaps presently more important, that he was supposed to be concentrating on the petitions made before him. Who had thought about this when they planned their journey to retake Erebor. Kili and him had made jokes about ‘the Durin boys”, and how they would show the might of the dwarves of Erebor to the world. But althought victory had always been their goal, pushing away any thoughts on what would happen if they failed, how their lives would be after that victory had not been thought through. He wondered if his uncle had foreseen this; the extend of the responsabilities he would have to carry. He probably had, but those thoughts were ost likely overshadowed by the opportunity of making Emma his wife when he was king.

Fili sighed, if he was lucky, his uncle’s honeymoon would end in a day or so, and he would be done with this. And if Mahal really had mercy, Emma would be pregnant and in six months he would no longer be heir.

While the man in front of him nagged on about mining rights while it was really clear that he was the one at fault in this matter, Fili’s thoughts wandered to the moment he was no longer the next in line for the throne of Erebor, to his own girl. He would be free to marry Sigrid if his uncle had a son, as he did no longer matter to the continuance of the line of Durin. His uncle would see the benefits, no doubt, of having stronger ties to their neighbours, and Bard would likely not object.

Yes, all would be fine, and as this was the last petitioner for today, perhaps he could have a drink with Kili, or write something to Sigrid. As he thought about it, his mind leaned towards writing. Girls liked getting letters, and if he could find the right tone, Sigrid would also.

The petitioner seemed to be wrapping up his story, so he looked down at him sceptically and ruled in the same fashion. There, done with it.

As he was about to get up, the large doors to the throneroom swung open, and in came none less than Gandalf, Elrond, Melo, Thranduil, that eerie Galadriel and Bard.

“Fili!” Gandaf started in a congenial tone “That throne looks like it was made for you.”

He replied with a quip, but his mind went blank. Every one of this visitors by themselves would have been just fine. But all together? They must want something, probably something Thorin would not agree to, otherwise they would not come now, when he was stepping in for his uncle.

He stepped down from the throne. “Come, let us have a drink. I imagine most of you have made quite a journey.”

Again that congenial chuckle from Gandalf. “Not at all. After the wedding we have been near, and athough I usually do not mind a refreshment, I fear this time our matter is quite time senstive.”

He spread his arms. “Out with it then.”and sat back down.

Thranduil looked at him as if he were some foolish boy nagging for their attention, and said: “We will need both your uncle and aunt for this, _Fili_. Appearantely their _invaluable_ advice can not be done without.”

That bugger of a treeshagger was trying to rile him up, just by using his first name instead of his title, he just knew it. He just wanted to rip that silver hair out of his head to strangle him wit it. But provocaton or not, what they wanted was impossible, and that’s what he told them plainly.

His refusal tensed up the situation, and without having to look back Fili knew the guards were closing in. “My uncle’s having his honeymoon, you can’t disturb, he gave his duties to me” He droned. “You can either have a room or go were you came from and come back a few days from now.”

To his surprise, there was no more protest, and his visitors left again, although he worried about how long they were going to stay away.


	8. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A miracle has happened today. My appointment cancelled, my daughter was away and I had all day and night to work out the rough version of this fic! And now the first part is finished, yay! Please let me know if you like it as much as I do (not to pat myself on the back too much or something...)

King Thorin had married a woman for love. And she wasn’t even a dwarf. Well, not technically, not completely. The blanks in the things her father had told her before all those important people had come to their house – palace, she corrected herself. They lived in a palace now – had been filled over the past weeks by the gossiping maids, the salesmen at the market, her frieds, everyone really. It was the talk of the town; mad King Thorin and his bastard queen. But for Sigrid the scandal of it all wasn’t really that interesting. She was more interested in the fact that it was possible to marry a royal dwarf for love, even if she wasn’t a dwarf herself

It was those thoughts Sigrid dwelled upon when she sat in the window sill of her bedroom one rainy afternoon in which the ground was being covered with sticky, wet snow. As the weather had, her mood had also become more gloomy, especially when her age came to mind. She was nineteen already, and compared to her friends quickly on her way to becoming a spinster.

When she was sixteen, her friends had all sighed in jealousy that her father didn’t marry her off to someone that might benefit their family’s standing in some way, that she did not already have a slew of children hanging from her skirts. But now they started to look at her with barely hidden pity, probably wondering what was wrong with her that no man wanted her.

In truth, she was beginning to think that herself, though not about just any man, but one specifically. She sighed deeply and started making patterns with her finger in the condensation on the window. Perhaps he preferred a dwarven woman, like Emma. She frowned and stopped drawing, wiping her wet finger on her skirt. Emma wasn’t really a dwarf, her da had told her himself that Emma was not completely dwarven but part elf, and still king Thorin had wanted to marry her. Perhaps she should be more like her. Problem was, she did not really know.

“Da?” Sigrid called after she had practically run down the stairs to her father’s study. He looked up from some maps and smiled, kindly but clearly tired.

“Aye?”

“What’s queen Emma like?” she asked casually, like her whole future did not just depend on knowing the answer to that question.

Her da chuckled and leaned back in his chair, picking up his old pipe and re-lighting it. “Emma? Well, eeerm, she’s the queen of Erebor. Why do you want to know?”

She nearly wanted to stomp her foot in frustration, but managed to refrain herself from falling back into toddler behaviour and instead just give her sweetest smile. “I know she’s the queen of Erebor, da. But what is she like, as a person I mean?”

Bard scrunched up his face as if thinking about an answer was rather difficult. “Headstrong. She knows what she wants and what she doesn’t. But also courageous, I guess.” He let out a dry chuckle. “She married Thorin after all.”

When her father saw her diappointed face, he patted the seat next to him for her to sit down. “Look Sig, I don’t know why you want to know so much about this woman, but I honestly can’t tell you anymore. Dwarves rather keep to themselves, and they keep ther wives even closer. So I just don’t know any more about her than what I’ve already told you.”

He wanted to ask her again why she wanted to know, but Sigrid already flew out of her chair and back to her room, the drawings on the window already gone. She mulled over what her father had said, but all she could make of it was that dwarves liked their women to not be too present in public, that knew what they wanted, and probably also said it. Unfortunately, that was not her strong suit. She knew what she wanted, but to her it had always seemed that one could not always do or get what they want, there were always the interests of others to keep in mind. And besides, she could hardly straight out tell Fili she wanted to marry him and have lots of his babies, could she?

To her surprise it was Bain that provided her with an answer to her conundrum, be it unknowingly. At dinner he told them about a girl that used to live in their block back in Laketown and was of the same age as him. Appearantely her father was holding a coming of age party so she could finally find a suitable husband as she did not yet have one. He snickered a bit. “Her father acts like she’s a princess, having a party for her to find a man and all.”

Before she could hold herself back, she nearly shouted “I also want one of those.” It would be perfect! She could invite Fili and his family, and she would make sure he knew that she was open to offers of marriage, especially from him.

Bard was less enthusiastic, or rather, unpleasantly surprised. It took a week of coaxing, flattering, sulking and buttering up untill he called her to the sitting room one evening when her Tilda was already asleep and Bain was Valar-knew-where.

“I know a coming of age party sounds nice to girls, Sig. A nice dress, presents, all eyes on you, I get it. But you have to understand that it is not just a party. Once you’ve had it, men will be coming to ask for your hand, and you’ll be expected to marry one of them. There are obligations attached to it.”

Sometimes her father seemed absolutey dimwitted. Of course she knew men were coming to ask for her hand, that was the whole point! Well, not _men_ , but one specific man. Or dwarf. She was not yet sure if male dwarves were also called men, but those were just details.


	9. Violet

It was Durin’s Day, and he had again not won the tournament. When he had beaten Dwalin, he had a fair hope of finally becoming the champion, but then that damned elf got in the way. Blasted elves! The frustration was almost beaming off of him, and the longer the speeches during dinner went on, the more ale he seemed to need to be able to keep quiet and not yell at those silly nobles to shut up and eat, and the more he slouched in his chair.

His uncle didn’t notice, whatever faculties he didn’t need to keep looking attentive during the speeches, he used to look at Emma. It appeared the king had gotten the queen a cape made of grey wolf pelts, and it looked magnificent on her. Should he have gotten Sigrid anything? Perhaps this could have been his chance to move beyond eternally being just friends, or acqaintances, he didn’t know how she regarded him.

All throughout the traditional ball he wondered what kind of present the lady of Dale would like. A necklace maybe? Or a bracelet? Or would that be too forward, and would some trinket just to let her know he was thinking of her be more appropriate? He looked around, seeing all the noble women attenting the ball. For a moment he wondered where they had all come from, and how they had gotten their status. For about half of them he knew their husbands had gotten their old family statusses back when they returned to Erebor. Others had been allowed to keep the noble titles they had had in the Blue Mountains. That still left some. Was their wealth and position earned, or just the result of some shady business?

He shrugged those thoughts off, needing to focuss on the matter at hand.  Sigrid would probably not like the dresses worn here. Too big and stuffy for her, she would disappear in them. Although, he pondered, Emma wore them and didn’t look as if she was swallowed whole.

Suddenly there was an unexpected, and really hard, poke in his ribs, and he was startled out of his thoughts. “We’re leaving.” His brother said with a bright smile, pulling him along and out of the ballroom. He had forgotten about theirDurin’s Day tradition, but his brother, uncle and cousin didn’t. Thorin was already walking a bit wobbly ready for the afterparty. He wondered why his uncle still went along, he had a wife, didn’t he? But then, so did Dwalin. Perhaps this was the reality of royal marriages; something at home and something on the side.

When they went into Dwalin’s chambers, Dina was nowhere to be seen. His cousin noticed him looking around, and grunted:  “With her mother.”

He nodded, and sat down on one of the opulent benches, rearranging the pillows so he could relax comfortably. When Dwalin had all handed them an ale, the door opened again, and to his annoyance the giggling git entered, followed by three other women. Why was she here? And with a belly that betrayed his uncle would have his first child soon! She started blabbing about everything and nothing again, somehow determined not to leave even one moment silent.

The woman sitting next to him tried to distract his thoughts from Jessa, and for the first time he looked at her. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, he thanked Mahal it wasn’t Durin blue, paired with with shoes in the same colour and a very interesting necklace. A single emerald was hanging from a delicate gold chain, complementing the fragile neck of the woman.

“Who made that for you?” He asked bluntly, taking the ruby between thumb and forefinger.

She giggled and started to open the buttons of his doublet, followed by the rest of his clothes, and hers for that matter. He could not resist after that, and afterwards he tried to justify it by telling himself he’s only a man. It didn’t really work though; the whole evening left a bad taste in his mouth.

 

X-O-X-O

The next morning he was up when the first rays of sun bravely tried to shine through the grey skies, and headed to the jeweler’s part of the forges. His fingers ran through countless gems, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and then rubies. He picked the most flawless one, knowing the discrete shimmer of the red stone would be perfect for her, hoping she would understand the significance of the colour.

It couldn’t be more perfect, he thought when he was done and he polished the stone and the chain for a last time. He immediately wrapped it and sent it to Dale, accompanied by a small note.

Looking back, he was glad he sent it without waiting, because when he returned to the royal corridor, all hell had broken lose. He couldn’t understand why Emma would turn against her own husband like that, but he also couldn’t believe Thorin hit her, with his flat hand hard against her cheek.

They were supposed to be married for love, he had seen it himself when she first arrived. Was this the reality for them, the reality for royal marriages?


	10. Grey

They were having lunch when a raven from Erebor arrived, and her father had first thought the package was for him. So he had opened it, grey thunder clouding his expression when he read the card. With a nod of his head he sent Bain and Tilda away. Sigrid had wanted to follow them, but with a firm grip on her forearm she was held back.

It wasn’t untill she sat back down and the door to the kitchen was closed, that her father looked at her.

“Appearantely there is someone in Erebor that thinks this lovely necklace would really complement my complexion.” He said, and she simultaneously turned as red as the ruby that had been sent, and started shaking a bit. Her father was normally always kind to her, always soft-spoken and understanding. Yet now she heard him speak in a tone she had not heard before, and it frightened her. Not because of what he might do, her father would never hit her, but because of what it might mean for her future.

Bard sighed and held up the necklace. “This is not just some cheap pebble, Sig. And such a present usually comes with expectations from the giver. Do you know who sent it to you?”

She could either be honest and tell him from whom it came, and how much she liked that person, or she could wait a while, wait untill things became more clear with Fili. Sigrid couldn’t decide, and so it remained quiet between her and her father, untill he handed the necklace and the card to her.

“It was sent to you, so it’s yours, Sig. But please know you’re not obligated to do anything just because this was given to you.”

Her father got up and kissed the crown of her head. “Sometimes a gift is just a gift. But if he hurts you in any way, not matter what, you tell me, promise?”

“Yes da, thank you.” She whispered, and he left the kitchen after that. It gave her the chance to look at her present better. The chain was intricately woven, but so delicate that she thought it could only be made by mice of fairies or something, certainly not by a dwarf. And then the stone. It was deep red, almost the same colour as blood. Would it mean anything, like red roses meant love? She did not know, she could only hope.

 

X-O-X-O

 

She never asked Fili if he sent the necklace, nor did she wear it. She wanted to save it for a special occasion. And the few times they met, he never asked why she didn’t use his present. It was like he didn’t care. He only spoke about how busy he was.


	11. Purple

Her coming of age ball was a week away, and there was one last thing she had to do. The past three months she had wondered if it was all worth it, as Fili didn’t seem so interested anymore. He seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, and their meetings were not as lighthearted as they used to be.

In the end she had decided she would make one last effort to get his interest and, pragmatically as always, if she wasn’t succesful she would perhaps find another suitor at her ball. She was twenty, she couldn’t stay unmarried for much longer. It pierced her heart, thinking that they would both end up wedded to someone else, and she quickly turned back to matters at hand. Even though they had servants, there was still enough for her to do without waisting her time on daydreams.

 

X-O-X-O

 

“Da, will you come with me to buy shoes?” she asked while they were having breakfast, and Bard looked up at her. She had deliberately not really included him in the rest of the preparations; his advisors had given her a budget and he had told her to get what she wanted. It suited her like that, she could get what she believed Fili would like without her da knowing. Going to the dressmaker had been a bit embarrasing, having to tell the woman she wanted something like queen Emma had worn on her weddingday, but she desperantly wanted Fili to see her as a potential bride. So after taking in a big gulp of air, though ale might have been better to boost her confidence, she had just said it. The dressmaker had smiled sweetly, telling her how lovely she would look.

But now the shoes. She had looked at the window of the shoemaker many times, admiring all the different types of shoes. But she had also seen the prices, and knew very well they did not fit in the budget she had been given.  When she had gone to look at shoes in other stores, they had been a disappointment, never as pretty as the ones she wanted.

And so she needed her da to come with her, perhaps he would have pity on her and buy them anyway. She did not know whether to grin or cry at this; before, when they still lived in their simple, comfortable little house, she would never have gotten something for herself before everyone else had what they needed. Back then, her father had to buy her new aprons, otherwise she would just keep on wearing the ragged, stained ones she had, preferring to get fabrics for a new dress for Tilda instead. Was she being selfish now? Was she taking things that didn’t belong to her?

“Aye, that’d be nice, love.” Her father said, pulling her from her doubts.

 

X-O-X-O

 

She was there! Sigrid couldn’t believe her luck, Emma was actually in the shoeshop when her da and her went in! Yet after that initial flow of excitement ebbed, she became nervous. What if she did something horrendously stupid, or makes a fool of herself?

But there was no time to worry about that, because her da introduced her. Queen Emma smiled, and Sigrid curtesied, wanting to hit herself for doing it so clumsy. She barely saw the woman queen Emma was with, staring at the Ereborian royalty she had been wanting to meet for so long.

And she was so kind, and so sweet, helping her pick out shoes, giving advice on colours and such. And then when her da shook her head as a sign she could not buy the shoes, and she was ready to burst out in tears, the queen bought them for her. And not even one pair. No, she bought her four pairs; two for the party and two for fun, as she had said it.

When they were about to leave, her da invited the two women for lunch, and they actually said yes. Emma, the queen of Erebor was actually coming to her house! It was like this is magic, some kind of etherial luck!

When they sat at the table, she regretted her earlier enthusiasm, as she couldn’t seem to stop herself from talking. She just blabbed on and on, and in the end, Emma probably knew how she felt about Fili. The rest of the week, she couldn’t stop worrying about it. Would they be laughing at her, the fisherman’s daughter that thinks she can have a crown prince as a husband? Or would Fili be disgusted, appaled by the thought of kissing her, a human? Or perhaps, really maybe, really really maybe, did he feel the same about her?


	12. Burgundy I

Today it was it, the day he had been looking forward to ever since they got the invitation. Yet now that it had come, it was overshadowed by more uncertainty. First there had been the madness with Melo and the elves. He couldn’t wrap his head around why her own relatives would attack Emma so brutally, and neither, for as far as he could tell, could Thorin. Probably because of all that, his uncle still hadn’t let him know if he could go, or of someone else would represent Erebor for he occasion.

Fili washed thouroughly anyway, telling the valet to get his best clothes. He wanted to be prepared when he finally received word. He knew the man was also supposed to dress him, but he had never been able to get used to someone else dressing him. If he had asked someone to do that back in the Blue Mountains, he would either be laughed at for the rest of his life or be hit upside the head, depending on whom he asked. Yet now it seemed perfectly aceptable for needing someone to close his buttons for him, as if he was suddenly a little dwarfling again.

When Fili himself, in all his competence, had dressed, he walked into the antechamber to ask the valet where his beads were, only to find Emma sitting there, appearantely waiting for him. He knew his hair must look a fright, so he tried to tame as best he could, mumbleling some excuse.

And then it was there, the message he had been waiting for. Emma wanted him to come with her to Sigrid’s party! He wanted to laugh and dance and sing, but then she asked him if he fancied a girl, and of course he wasn’t good enough with words to steer her in another direction. Or perhaps Emma had his uncle to practice on, and she just knew how to go around playing with words. Anyway, it was only lucky she didn’t chop his head off when he told her the girl he fancied would possible not be suitable because she wasn’t a dwarf.

It could have ended much worse, especially since Kili walked in when he was about to ask if Emma knew if Sigrid felt the same for her. He was unable to finish his sentence, and she could not answer. But he felt like he would have gotten to hear what he wanted to hear. All in all, it ended in the best way possible, as Emma helped him choose a gift for Sigrid.

As she had not worn his necklace, he knew he had to choose something else. Perhaps she had found it to small a gift, too paltry from someone who was the heir to the kingdom known to have a treasury that was larger than the average village. He had to go bigger, bolder, better.

He knew he could not get the pieces displayed in the glass boxes; they were either heirlooms or so incredibly valuable that they were not even given to Emma, Thorin would kill him if he gave them away. But there were other pieces, stacked neatly on shelves, that would suit his purpuse, that would make her see eactly how much he cared, and how well a husband he would be.

Yet he could not find what he was looking for, nothing that seemed special enough. Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm, and Emma asked: “What is it you want to achieve with this present?”

Fili thought about it for a moment. He wanted her to know he could do better than his first gift, that he would take care of her no matter what. But then he thought about the core of his feelings, and he realised he just wanted her to know he was interested in her. If she was to get a proposal for courting tonight, it would be his, and no one else’s.

 “If you want her to know of your interest, and perhaps build on that, would it not be better to give her something she can see herself? And not only in the mirror, but all the time, making her think of you.” Emma said.

Would Sigrid think of him as he thought of her? Would she also wake up in the middle of the night, bedsheets burning on her skin and with the uncontrollable urge to slide her hand down, over her chest, her belly, untill she found that one place that could relief her ache?

He felt his cheeks redden, and quickly he drove his thoughts of Sigrid’s nocturnal activities out of his mind and turned his attention back to Emma. He just talked along with her, not really knowing what she was talkign about, but then she held up a bracelet she thought would be suitable in front of him, and as images of Sigrid in her bed kept invading his thoughts and his trousers were getting a bit tight, he just quickly grabbed it and left.

 

X-O-X-O

 

“You will not leave her out of your sight.” Thorin re-itterated, and Kili obediently repeated every word his uncle said, though he was not skilled enough to keep every trace of boredom out of his voice.

Fili wondered why exactly this conversation had to happen in his rooms. Certainly he had nothing to do with how Kili minded Emma when she was with the silverhaired shagger, untill a tingle rode down his spine. What if his uncle knew? What if Kili had blabbed about what had happened in Rivendel? After a moment of consideration he dismissed that thought; if his uncle knew Emma had slept with Thranduil, he would have set the Mirkwood on fire and danced around it like it was a bonfire.

“And you, behave tonight, don’t make us look like idiots!” Thorin had appearantely turned his attention to him, but as he said nothing more, seemed assured that his chastisement would reap the desired results.

 


	13. Burgundy II

He swallowed a couple of times before they entered Dale’s palace, but he couldn’t seem to get rid of the knot of nerves that had taken its place in his throat. He straightened his doublet, raked his fingers through his hair and made sure his moustache braids weren’t getting fuzzy.

_“Her royal highness, Emma, queen of Erebor, queen of the Grey Hills, Baroness of Mithranin. His royal highness, Fili, heir-presumptive of Erebor. His royal highness, Kili, prince of Erebor.”_

He felt like he was about to choke when he heard them being announced, and he put his hand in his pocket, tightly closing it over the box that contained Sigrid’s present. All the way to their seats, and even when they sat down, he felt like he was being watched, as if everyone knew  how he was feeling.

Fili looked around, trying to find the person he had come for, but she was nowhere to be seen. His mind again ran away with him, coming up with horrorscenarios. Perhaps she had already accepted a suitor, and it was too late to cancel the party. Or perhaps  she had seen him and finally saw what a complete idiot he was.

This time he was pulled out of his thoughts by the trumpets announcing the royal family of Dale entering the room. Immediately a line formed to congratiolate Sigrid, and he resigned to shuffling closer and closer to her. What if she did not want what he wanted? What if she thought his gift was as bad as the last one?

But then he looked a little better at her, and he saw it. She was wearing it! At her coming of age ball, she was wearing the necklace _he_ gifted her. A scrape of Emma’s throat reminded him of the fact they had to join the line of well-wishers. He got up, and walked next to Kili, though not to the back of the line, but immediately to Sigrid.

There was no time to think of what exactly to say, as suddenly he was standing in front of her. Everytime he saw her, he thought she looked a little more beautiful than the time before, but now, now she looked like she could conquer the world with just a smile. Their eyes met when Emma congratiolated her, and then it was his turn.

“Many congratiolations on your birthday, princess Sigrid. I hope my—Erebor’s gift will do you justice.”

He wanted to kill himself at the spot. Not only did he say the present was from him, but this ball wasn’t for her birthday! His incredible faux-pas was met with a polite answer from their host, but he saw the shimmer in her eyes; he only hoped that didn’t signal a type of amusement he wasn’t hoping for.

 

X-O-X-O

 

And then she said yes, and they danced.  Bard had taken an unappropriate amount of time to grant Fili permission to dance with his daughter, and from the corner of his eye he saw Emma dancing with Thranduil, but it all didn’t matter, as Sigrid whispered:

“I’m glad you could come.” She did not look at him when she said it, he eyes shyly averted to  a place  in the region of his shoulder.

“Me too” he whispered back. “Does that mean you would like to keep seeing me?” He knew it was risky, but he had little to loose, and so he had tried.

His bet payed of, as she whispered a soft ‘Aye’, and it gave him the courage to take it a step further. “Would that also mean that a courting offer from me would not be unwelcome?”

This time she looked at him; from the orner of her eye, but still. “Aye” she whipered again, and his heart jumped. All this waiting, doubing and worrying, and now he was at the place he wanted to be.


	14. Part II

The first (short) chapter of Part II of Colors of the crown is up, hope you'll enjoy it!


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